


Dance With Me

by FlowersForBrooklynBoys



Category: Marvel (Movies)
Genre: Bucky needs a hug, Cutness, Dancing, stucky au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:02:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6953878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlowersForBrooklynBoys/pseuds/FlowersForBrooklynBoys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve meets the handsome stranger Bucky at a dance Natasha dragged him to. They flirt and become friends, but then fall out of contact. Steve eventually finds Bucky in a bar, trying to drink away troubles with his mother. They reconnect and Steve ends up moving in with Bucky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance With Me

Steve eyed the floor filled with whirling people and raised an eyebrow at Natasha.  
"Don't look so scared," she laughed. "You'll be fine. It's fun."  
Steve watched her go, standing awkwardly in the corner. He watched the dancers and tried to figure out what the heck was happening. There seemed to be a pattern, but Steve had no idea how they knew where to go. He sat in one of the foldable chairs lining the walls, in no rush to jump into the confusion.  
Then his eye caught sight of a gorgeous brunet, whirling and twirling like a maniac, hand and hand with Natasha. Aside from Nat, he was easily one of the best dancer in the place. Steve stared, entranced. He was just beginning to grasp what what going on by watching the stranger's movements when the bouncy fiddle music faded off and the dance ended. The crowd dispersed, all in search of new partners or water. Steve was just trying to concentrate on getting out of their way. Someone tapped his shoulder.  
"Would you like to dance?" Steve turned and saw the brunet. He was even more gorgeous in person.  
Steve felt his tongue knot up. "I-I don't really know how, I mean I've never . . . I'm just here with my friends, I've never been dancing before, so I don't really know what's going on. I'd probably just be in your way." The brunet shook his head and held out his hand.  
"Oh it's easy. Come on, I'll teach you."  
"Alright, sure," Steve said. He took the handsome strangers hand and followed him. Everybody went through the dance once, and the brunet helped Steve walked through the steps, guiding him patiently. Then the dance started, and Steve was thrown into the mix of people.  
At first, he was full of panic and confusion, but then he began to get the hang of it and started to have fun. He still messed up a lot, but it made Mr. Tall and Handsome laugh so Steve was okay with it. Steve smiled and they came together to "swing your partner". Steve couldn't look the brunet in the eyes. He smelled really damn good. The brunet leaned down.  
"You're doing really well," he said into Steve's ear, smiling. Steve managed to smile back, but after that he had trouble focusing on the dance. When it ended they bowed to each other.  
Natasha approached them. "Hi," she said to the brunet.  
"Natasha," he said, nodding.  
Steve frowned. "You know each other?"  
"Yeah, we've been dancing here for a few years now," Natasha said. "It's time to go."  
Steve nodded, telling his disappointment to go suck it. He nodded at the brunet and smiled again. "Thanks."  
"No problem. Glad you had fun. Oh, and before you leave, can I catch a name so I don't keep calling you Tall, Blond, and Gorgeous in my head?"  
Steve blushed. "Steve," he said. "You?"  
"Bucky," he thought he heart him say. "See you around, Steve."  
Natasha elbowed him and grinned. "He's into you," she said as soon as they were out of earshot.  
"No he's not," Steve said. "You and I both know my luck isn't that good. There is no way that man is not straight."  
Natasha cocked an eyebrow. "Tall Blond and Gorgeous?" She quoted. Steve suppressed his smile.  
"Shut up, Nat," he muttered.  
***  
Four months and eight dances later, Steve looked up from his drink and saw Bucky sitting across the bar. He'd been to every contra dance since the first and had gotten a lot better, but hadn't seen his handsome stranger. His heart twitched with sadness at the look on Bucky's face. He watched him down another shot, and noticed the clutter of empty glasses by his elbow. He found himself heading in Bucky's direction. Steve you idiot what are you doing? He caught the eye of the bar tender.  
"Put those on my tab," he said, gesturing to Bucky's empty drinks.  
"Thanks," Bucky said flatly as the bar tender nodded. "You're from the dance, right? Steve, isn't it?"  
"Yeah," Steve said, sitting down. "So what happened?"  
Bucky raised his eyebrows, looking slightly surprised. "Who said anything happened?"  
"The look on your face," Steve answered. "It's fine if you don't want to talk about it, and I completely understand if you want me to leave."  
"No, stay," Bucky said. "It would actually help me, if you don't mind."  
"Yeah, of course," Steve said. Bucky sighed and seemed to crumble.  
"It-it's my mom," he said, swallowing hard. "She-well, she told me she was fine. I knew something was wrong but she kept denying it. I-I got a call a week ago. She was in the hospital, they told me. They were clearing the liquid from her lungs. They said it wasn't the first time, so she'd be okay. I was so confused, I asked them what they meant. They told me she has lung cancer." He stopped and blinked rapidly. She's had it for four years. Four years, Steve. And she never told me. You know how long lung cancer patients have? Five years. I was so angry, but I didn't want to be angry. Not at her, not when she has so little time left. They diagnosed her at three years, it was too late to do anything by that time."  
"Bucky, I'm so sorry," Steve whispered. The brunet frowned slightly.  
"It-it's actually Buck."  
"Oh! Sorry, I thought you said Bucky at the dance. Sorry."  
"No, actually. It's fine. You can call me Bucky."  
"Okay." There was a small, awkward silence.  
Bucky took a sop of his drink. "I just want to forget," he said.  
"Bucky," Steve said. "From one almost-stranger to another, I don't think this is the way to do it."  
"Do you have another way?"  
"A few."  
"Suggestions?"  
"Do something that makes you happy. Something confusing and loud."  
"What do you mean?"  
"I saw the look in your eyes when we-you were dancing. You love it."  
Bucky half laughed without much humor. "I'm not sure I have the energy. Maybe I'll just stick to drinking. Besides, I don't want to waste your money, since you bought these."  
Steve smiled. "Nice try. It's my money, like you said. Come on, Bucky. We're going dancing."  
"Alright. Lemme just get my keys."  
"Nope, you're drunk, I'm driving."  
***  
Steve leaned back against the tree trunk and felt the cool air dry the sweat on his back. He sat next to Bucky, the two of them listening to the lively music emanating from the dance hall.  
"Thanks," Bucky murmured. "Your almost-stranger advice is better than I though it would be."  
"Glad it helped."  
"You've gotten better. Have you been practicing for me?"  
"Obviously."  
"Dancing drunk isn't as easy as I made it look, you know."  
"I'm sure. But hey, you did a pretty damn good job of making it look so."  
"You weren't so bad yourself, Steve."  
"Ah, but I'm not drunk."  
Bucky turned to look at him, his head lolling slightly. "Say my name," he said, a light smirk on his face.  
"Buck?"  
"No, the way you say it."  
"Bucky." Bucky smiled and mouthed the name. "I like it," he said, then giggled. He leaned forward.  
"Say it again," he whispered, smiling playfully. Steve leaned forward also, their noses almost touching. His heart was pounding. "Bucky," he breathed. Bucky closed his eyes, and didn't move back. Neither did Steve, who expected Bucky to make a joke or fall asleep or something. When Bucky opened his eyes, the laughter had gone. He do ok a breath and leaned forward an inch more, catching Steve's lips in his own. Steve was so surprised he didn't move for a second. He felt a tear slide from Bucky's eyes. Steve kissed him back for a second more, but then, as much as it hurt him, he gently pushed Bucky away.  
"I'm sorry," Bucky said. "I thought-"  
"No, Bucky. Well yes, you were right, but just . . . Not like this, okay? I need to know you mean it. I need to know it counts."  
Bucky nodded, and Steve wiped the tears from the brunet' cheeks. An instant later, Bucky was joking around and laughing again, having completely forgotten about what had happened a second ago. Steve drove him home. It took longer than it should've because Bucky's sense of direction was slightly inhibited. But they got there eventually, and Steve tucked Bucky in on his insistence. He left his number and address on a slip of paper on Bucky's bedside table with the words 'in case anything happens', and left, knowing Bucky would know what he meant.  
***  
Steve never got a call from Bucky, which he assumed was a good thing but also kinda sucked. He didn't see him after that night either. The dance hall closed for construction. Eight months passed. Then one day when Steve was getting ready to fall asleep to Netflix, the doorbell rang. He sat for a second, debating on weather or not to open it. It was ten o'clock at night. Steve sighed, got up, and opened his door. Bucky stood there on his doorstep, his posture resigned and his eyes red from crying.  
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't know where else to go."  
Steve stared at him. Bucky had none of the old playfulness about him, and the bright look in his eyes Steve remembered so well was gone as well. He looked thinner too. If you didn't notice these things, you would've thought he looked like a normal cocky twenty year old. But Steve noticed, and knew immediately what had happened. He stepped aside.  
"Come in," he said. Bucky stepped past and sat heavily on the couch. He pointed to the bowl of popcorn sitting on the coffee table.  
"May I?" He asked.  
"Please," Steve said, sitting down next to him. "When?" He asked gently.  
"Yesterday. It was quiet. Peaceful. She wasn't in any pain." He blinked rapidly.  
"Bucky . . . I'm so sorry," Steve whispered. A tear slid down Bucky's cheek. Steve reached over and pulled the brunet to him, holding him tightly. Bucky froze for a long second, and for a moment Steve thought he'd made a horrible mistake. But then Bucky relaxed into the blond's chest, and let Steve hold him as he cried. After a while, Bucky sat up and wiped his eyes.  
"Sorry," he muttered. Steve just shook his head, his arms feeling empty in Bucky's absence. Bucky nodded at the television. "What were you going to watch before I barged in on you?"  
"Supernatural," Steve answered.  
"I love that show!" Bucky exclaimed. "Misha Collins is like the most adorable . . ." He trailed off and turned a little pink.  
Steve had been about to make the same comment. "I know," he said, passing lightly over the comment. "And I love Cas and Dean's relationship."  
"Yeah. Anyway, I should probably get home." Bucky got up to leave.  
"Why don't you stay?" Steve heard himself saying. Bucky hesitated. "Just sleep here tonight. You look like you could use a friend."  
Bucky moved back to his place on the couch. "I could really, that would be so helpful. Thank you."  
"Of course," Steve said. "Hot chocolate?"  
"Yes, please," Bucky said. "So what part are you at?"  
"Season 9," Steve called from the kitchen. "No spoilers."  
"I wouldn't dare," Bucky said. He waited for Steve to come back into the room before starting the episode. He accepted a mug of coco and they settled down to watch. Before Steve had even finished his coco, his eyes began to drop. 

He didn't remember falling asleep, but when he woke up he found himself in Bucky's arms. Bucky was trying and failing to extricate himself from their position without waking Steve.  
"Shit, sorry," he said.  
Steve sat up. "No, no, it's fine. What time is it?"  
"Eleven."  
"Shit," Steve swore. "Fuck, I have to pack today."  
"Pack? Are you going somewhere?"  
Steve rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, they're doing electrical work and construction. They told me last week and said it'd take at least a month. I asked them if I could stay because it's not on my side of the building but," he shook his head, "no luck."  
"So where will you go?" Steve shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe a friend's a few hours away." I don't have enough money to stay in a hotel, and it's too late to find a temporary apartment."  
"Stay with me," Bucky suggested.  
Steve blinked. "I wouldn't want to bother you. Thanks though."  
"You wouldn't. No, I'm serious," Bucky said. "Please, I don’t want to be alone right now." "Are you sure?"  
Bucky nodded. "Yeah. Here, I'll help you pack."  
"Thanks,” Steve said. “Breakfast first though. Milk?"  
"Nah. Lactose intolerant."  
***  
"Bucky, what the hell, this is perfect," Steve said, taking a sip of the hot chocolate. "How did you know I put cinnamon in it?"  
"I tasted it yesterday," Bucky said, bouncing as he sat down on the couch.  
"Quite a nice pallet you've got. Do you cook?"  
"As long as you're on a diet of breakfast foods and baked goods, sure I guess you could call it that."  
"As long as there are no eggs, I'll be fine."  
"What's wrong with eggs?"  
"I'm allergic."  
"You're allergic to eggs? What the hell, Steve?"  
***  
Steve moves in and fixes some shit in Bucky's apartment, (it's a really nice apartment, btw)  
***  
Steve pulled on his jeans and looked around for his t-shirt but didn't see it. Shit. It's in my bag. He opened the door and headed to the living room, hoping Bucky wasn't there. He was.  
"Hey Steve," he said, eyes traveling down the blond's torso. "Eggs?"  
Steve rolled his eyes and turned around. "Are you trying to poison me?"  
Bucky winked. "Maybe."  
Steve's heart jerked and he looked down, pulling a shirt from his bag and throwing it on. Bucky stuck a piece of toast in his mouth and bounced onto the couch, controlling the remote with his toe.  
"Nice abs," he said, taking the toast from his mouth.  
"Thanks," Steve said, heading into the kitchen for his own toast. It was no big deal, he told himself. Just Bucky being Bucky.   
"Do you want milk?" Bucky asked, coming into the kitchen after him.  
"Sure." Bucky pulled out a bottle of OJ and milk and poured two glasses, then headed back into the other room, carefully monitoring the weather. Steve picked up his plate and sat down next to Bucky.  
"Thank you," he said, taking the glass out Bucky was about to drink and replacing it with the one on the coffee table. Bucky opened his mouth to protest before he noticed Steve was holding the milk glass.  
"Thanks," he said, smiling. "Let's just say the plumbing wouldn't be happy if not for you."  
"How have you ever functioned without me?" Steve teased. "Oh, and gross, by the way."  
***  
"Wine?" Bucky asked.  
"Always," Steve said, accepting the glass and examining the explosion of cards, reminders, magnets, and sticky notes covering Bucky's refrigerator. Bucky leaned against the counter next to him and took a sip from his glass. There was a silence.  
"I remember, you know," Bucky said quietly.  
"Remember what?" Steve asked.  
"When I kissed you that night you took me to the dance. Eight months or so ago, when I found out my mother was sick."  
Steve froze.  
"You pushed me away."  
Steve nodded, trying to calm his racing heart. "Do you remember what I said?" Bucky closed his eyes and looked down, shaking his head.  
"No," he said. "Something like 'not this'."  
Steve stepped close to him and rested his hands on the counter on either side of Bucky's hips, hoping desperately that he was doing the right thing. Bucky didn't move or open his eyes, but inhaled deeply.  
"'Not like this' I said," Steve whispered. "'I need to know you mean it. I-'"  
"'Need to know it counts,'" Bucky finished, opening his eyes to look up at Steve, who raised an eyebrow provocatively.  
"I thought you said you didn't remember," he said.  
"Well," Bucky replied. "You helped me."  
"Mmm. And do you remember what you asked befor you kissed me?"  
"'Say my mane,'" Bucky breathed.  
"'Buck.'" Bucky giggled. "'No, like you say it.'"  
Steve leaned down and put his lips next to Bucky's ear, pressing his body against the other man. "'Bucky.'"  
Bucky shivered. "Shit, Steve," he whispered, then slipped his arm behind Steve and pulled him into a kiss. He pulled away after a few long moments and gave Steve an evil smile.  
"Does it count now, Stevie?"  
"Goddamn it, Bucky," Steve gasped. "It counts."  
"Are you sure?" Bucky lightly brushed Steve's lips with his own before pulling away and gazing up at him through his lashed. "Because I'm not sure you mean it."  
"Fuck, Bucky it counts. That look should be illegal, now shut up and kiss me!" And Bucky did, happily.


End file.
